


Does It Hurt? (Only When I’m Without You)

by 0ceansgayt



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, angst & fluff, car accident fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0ceansgayt/pseuds/0ceansgayt
Summary: If she had just told Chloe how she felt, it could have been prevented. By it, Beca meant the accident that nearly claimed Chloe’s life.If she had just known how Beca felt, maybe she would have left a little later and bypassed the reckless driver.If Chloe had just known, this whole thing would have been so much easier.





	Does It Hurt? (Only When I’m Without You)

**Author's Note:**

> So much ANGST. This is my very first bechloe fic so I’m p damned nervous about posting it, tbh. 
> 
> Thanks to ladygaybeale on tumblr for the amazing prompt, I owe ya a big one for the muse darlin’ 
> 
> So ANYWAYS I’d appreciate any feedback and reviews! 
> 
> xx

The sharp ring of the phone broke Beca from her trance, deep in thought as she worked on a demo for one of her clients. It was rough, especially because she hadn’t had much quiet time since moving in with Amy and Chloe, but rent was steep and they needed to pool together as a group to be able to afford it - not that Amy afforded anything.

Because that’s what family does, right?

And they were family, at least to Beca. She had never really had people in her life and it was actually nice to have someone for a change.

It was so rare that someone actually called their landline, usually opting to call or text one of their cells. Really, the only people who called the landline were their parents or Aubrey, who apparently didn’t know how a cell phone worked.

She almost entertained the thought of ignoring it, but something inside of Beca told her that she needed to pick it up. Shoving back from her desk, she stalked over to the landline and picked it up.

“H’llo?” She tried to shake the exhaustion from her brain to better hear the voice on the phone.

“Is this the residence of Rebecca Mitchell and Patricia Hobart?”

Beca murmured a small sound akin to an agreeance, moving to the table and sitting down. “This is Beca.”

“Do you know Miss Chloe Beale?”

“Yes…” She was wary now, all signs of exhaustion gone from her voice, trepidation taking its place instead. “Is there something wrong?”

There was static on the line for a moment and Beca almost hung up, but decided against it in case it was, in fact, important. She drummed her nails against the table and glanced at the clock, suddenly realizing how late it had become.

Chloe was usually home by now, wasn’t she? Maybe she was just late. She had to be.

“Ma’am?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, your friend has been in an accident. You’re her only emergency contact and we can’t get ahold of any of her family.”

It felt like the blood drained from her veins and was replaced by ice. Beca sat in shock for a moment, eyes wide and body rigid. How the hell had this happened to Chloe? Sweet, innocent Chloe of all people.

Accidents were reserved for people like her - dark and broody and harsh - or it could have been Amy, if they were getting technical. But not Chloe - not her Chloe.

The man on the other end cleared his throat, breaking Beca from her thoughts yet again. There were tears in her eyes and she didn’t trust herself to speak, knowing that she would dissolve into a fit of tears if she did.

“Miss Mitchell?”

She made a soft noise akin to an agreement, but she really wasn’t sure. Hell, she wasn’t aware of very much at the moment - only that Chloe was probably hurt...or worse.

The alternative was too horrific for Beca to even think of, a strangled sob passing her lips. She clapped her hand over her mouth in attempt to keep her sobs at bay, but it was no use.

“Miss Mitchell, you should come down here. She’s at Mercy West. I understand that you’re in a bit of shock right now, so we can send a car for you if you’d like.”

How fucking insensitive did this dickwad have to be?

Really, he expected an answer?

The only sound that came from her lips was a sobbed ‘yes’, her chest heaving and shoulders hunched forward. It was so unfair - why Chloe? Why the hell do bad things happen to good people?

“Y-yes. Fine. Yeah.” She choked out, several breaths later.

“A car will be at your residence soon, Miss Mitchell.”

There was a sharp click as the line went dead, the man having hung up without any sympathy or well wishes. He had to have done it a million times before, but it didn’t stop Beca from throwing the phone across the room, watching it bounce off the wall and shatter through tear stained vision.

She had never been able to process her emotions particularly well, but the events of the past few minutes had left her absolutely dumbfounded. Chloe had just texted her saying that her shift was almost over - how the hell does something happen that fast?

Realistically, she knew that anything could happen at any time, needing only a fraction of a second to take place and change lives forever. For example, a chance encounter at an activities fair when she lingered too long at the booth, more curious than interested.

The memory brought a watery smile to Beca’s face, thoughts bittersweet. She would never have guessed that it would lead to the best years of her life, a bubbly redhead by her side and the sunshine to her rain cloud. Now, the thought of their relationship only brought a sick feeling to Beca’s stomach

She had loved Chloe for all these years and never said anything.

And she could lose her in an instant.

There was the distant sound of a horn honking outside, Beca jolting up and to a standing position. She surveyed her appearance in the mirror, grimacing at the sight of herself - makeup tracked down her face, swollen tear tracked cheeks, hair thrown up in a messy bun and too big sweats hanging loosely off her frail form.

A fresh round of quiet tears dripped down her face when she noticed that she was in Chloe’s sweatpants, too long and bunched up at her feet - a sight that often made Chloe squeal and grin that megawatt grin that could light up the tristate area.

She grabbed her phone off the desk before stuffing her feet into flip flops and setting off into the night, keys dangling from her index finger.

Every step closer to the car filled Beca with more and more dread, stomach flipping in a way that was more intense than just nervous nausea. She idly wondered if this was how Aubrey often felt before an episode.

The driver was gruff and in a hospital issued car, his hands glued to the steering wheel and never even so much as looking back to greet her when she entered the vehicle. It perturbed Beca quite a bit, sniffling quietly in the back of the car.

The longer they drove, the more her stomach flipped. It felt like it would be the last time she ever saw Chloe, though she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be. Chloe was stronger than that, wasn’t she?

Her first instinct was to text Chloe - to tell her how absolutely insane it was - when it dawned on her that she couldn’t. Chloe was the one who had been in the wreck.

With a sigh, Beca unlocked her phone and pulled up Aubrey’s contact, typing away through her tears. She was sure there would be typos that she would be ridiculed for, but almost wanted the distraction.

Beca: Chloe has been in an accident. It’s so surreal, like she just texted me a bit ago and told me she was almost ready to come home. And I love her. I really love her. I think I lost my chance with her.

Hitting send brought a fresh round of tears, the thought of never being able to tell Chloe that she loved her almost too much to bear. She just never thought that it would be too late - that there would be an expiration date - always deciding that later would be better.

It wasn’t better, was it? She wouldn’t be sitting in agonizing pain if she had told her years before.

Beca blamed herself for everything negative that ever happened in life, even if it was so insanely out of her control, like blaming herself for the demise of the relationship between her parents. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she had confessed her feelings before, Chloe wouldn’t have gotten into a wreck.

If she had just confessed her feelings, maybe Chloe would have stayed back for a moment to send her a goodbye text and missed whichever car had been speeding by.

If only she had said something.

A soft buzz on her thigh brought her out of her musing, smiling softly when she saw that Aubrey had actually answered back, full of perfect grammar and punctuation.

Aubrey: Is she okay? Well, you don’t know yet so that was a silly question. But let me know how everything is. As for love? I believe you still have a chance. Go tell her how you feel before it really is too late. And if you hurt her? I know a place where they’ll never find you.

They pulled up to the hospital and the sick feeling returned, Beca’s stomach churning as she thought of the possible scenarios. Best possible and Chloe was okay, but the worst? She didn’t even want to think of it.

The driver let out a loud sigh when she unbuckled her seatbelt, murmuring something along the lines of ‘have a nice day, lady.’ Beca honestly wanted to punch him in the fucking face.

Stepping into the sterile halls felt so foreign, only memories of hospitals being from illness or death of a family member. Hospitals reminded her of the day her nana took her last breath, or the day she broke her arm from jumping off of the top step thinking that her Batman cape would help her fly.

Hospitals weren’t for people who were okay - people who weren’t in pain or suffering.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” A young woman called out, eyes gentle and smile bright and cheery.

Of course you can fucking help me, Beca thought, standing in front of the desk like a lost idiot.

“I’m here for Chloe...Beale. Chloe Beale.”

The woman tapped away at her computer for a moment, fake smile never leaving her face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, rather unnerving if you had to ask Beca. After a moment, her head shot up to look at Beca.

“Room 312, Intensive Care Unit. She’s stable now, so you can go in. Can I get a name?”

How could this woman be so positive and happy through all of the horrors the hospital saw? It made Beca irrationally angry, this woman smiling like she had just seen a damned puppy while she announced that her best friend was in intensive care.

“Rebecca Mitchell.”

“Let me print you a sticker, Miss Rebecca, and I’ll let you go on your way!”

Beca wanted to snark back with some rude comment - wanted to bite happy go lucky’s fucking head off, actually - as she watched the woman bounce with glee as the sticker printed out. Really? How could someone be so happy in this hell hole?

She slapped the sticker onto the arm of her sweatshirt, ignoring the monotonous spiel coming from the woman explaining the importance of hand sanitizing before entering hospital rooms.

Did they seriously think she was dumb?

Beca squeezed a dollop of the foam into her palm, rubbing her hands together as she walked past the woman with a pointed glare. It should have felt nasty and mean, Chloe’s attitude having rubbed off on her a little bit, but she couldn’t bring herself to care today. Not when her entire heart was lying in a hospital bed.

She stalked angrily through the halls, fingers running against the rails in a weak attempt to ground herself. Back when she began to recognize her panic attacks - during her first year of being a Bella - Chloe taught her that the best way to ward of impending attacks was to physically take hold of something in the room.

Her fingers danced along cool metal as her eyes remained trained on the signs mounted to the walls before her. She was getting closer and closer to Chloe’s room number, the pit in her stomach growing deeper as she walked.

312.

Beca’s eyes zeroed in on the room number, hand hesitating on the doorknob for a moment. If she was in a room, she was alive. The thought had a small sense of relief washing over her, though still unsure of her condition.

Before she gathered the courage to open the door, it was swinging open into the room, a tall man in a white lab coat walking out with a clipboard tucked under his arm. In his haste, he almost knocked Beca down and stopped to grab her arm in attempt to steady her back on her feet.

“Woah, I’m sorry. Are you family?”

“The only family she’s got...and you can let go of my fucking arm.” She pulled her arm away and dusted at the sleeve for good measure. He looked almost offended, eyes narrowing as he pushed his glasses on top of his head.

“Well I guess I’ll update you on her condition. It isn’t good - she’s in a coma right now and we have her hooked up to a breathing tube. She was really weak and we didn’t want to chance anything happening. If she pulls through this coma, we’ll cast her leg and arm. Left arm and leg are both broken.”

The information was flying through Beca’s brain at top speed, unable to process what the man had said - who the hell was he, anyways - before he turned and walked off, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob once more, pushing it open and stepping into the room nervously.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her, stomach churning as she took in Chloe’s presence. Glowing skin was a sickly shade of grey, a small tube emerging from between her lips and secured with tape. There were wires and monitors everywhere, needles and sensors in more places than Beca could have possibly counted. Once fiery red hair was matted down with nearly dried blood, the sight churning Beca’s stomach the worst of anything else.

She wanted to cry and scream and stomp and throw things, but knew it would be for naught. It wasn’t Chloe’s fault and it most certainly wasn’t Beca’s - it was the fault of the other driver, she was sure. There were bruises beginning to crop up on Chloe’s face, the sight wrenching Beca’s heart.

A split decision had her pressing the red nurse call button, a woman dashing into the room before Beca could even sit in the chair across from it.

“Is there anything we can do to make her more comfortable?”

“I need a bowl of water and a brush.”

The nurse looked at her quizzically, but Beca’s hardened gaze must have told her not to question it. At this point, questioning Beca could be damned near nervous - she was ready and waiting to rip out the throat of a too-chipper nurse or receptionist.

While she waited on the nurse to return, Beca dragged a chair along the floor and positioned it beside the head of Chloe’s bed. She found a couple of rags in the cupboard of linens above the sink, folding them neatly and putting them in a stack beside a cleaner part of Chloe’s head and hair.

It was sickening that they would leave her in such a condition, blood caked to her face and hair from a small cut on her eyebrow. It didn’t have stitches, but probably was the source of all of the blood due to the arteries in the area. Hell, her entire body was covered with small patches of dried on blood.

When the nurse returned, Beca took the bowl angrily and set it gently beside Chloe’s head, arranging her hair gently to fan out around her head. She bummed while she worked, gently washing and combing the blood out of Chloe’s hair and then patting it dry with one of the rags.

She moved on to gently wiping down Chloe’s face and arms, carefully avoiding the tubes and wires. It felt surreal in a way - you never think you’re going to have to wipe down someone’s bloodied, unconscious body until you’re sitting there doing it.

Beca wrung the cloth out into the bowl of water, moving up to run the comb gently through Chloe’s hair. The silence was deafening to her, unable to recall a time where she was in a room this quiet with Chloe - other than when the older woman was sleeping.

With a sniffle, she laced her hand in Chloe’s and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure where to begin, wanting to fill the silence with something other than the beeping machines.

“Chloe, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If I had just told you how much I love you…” Beca tried to choke back a sob for the millionth time that night. “I need you to wake up because I can’t do this without you, okay?”

It was a light flutter against her hand, gone unnoticed through her sobs. Beca’s forehead was resting against the bed when there was a gentle tug at her fingers, causing her to snap up and gasp.

Chloe was unmoving still, chest rising and falling in time with the hissing and whirring of the machines around them. Beca studied her cautiously, eyes trained on Chloe’s face.

If she had blinked - looked away for a split second - she would have missed the slight twitch of Chloe’s lips. Her eyes widened watching the older woman, Chloe’s lips still twitching as though she was trying to expel the tube on her own.

Beca stood, hammering on the nurse call button several times in quick succession. A woman in blue scrubs ran into the room, snapping gloves onto her hands rapidly.

“Is there a change?”

“She’s awake! She’s fucking awake! Her eyes are moving even though they’re closed and her lips are twitching. Get that thing out of her throat!” Beca rushed out, standing dutifully at Chloe’s bedside and watching her face carefully.

Her eyes were moving beneath closed lids, almost as though she couldn’t open her eyes at all. The nurse moved to Chloe’s side and pressed a hand to her chest, and surveyed the redhead’s expression, nodding thoughtfully.

“You cleaned her up, huh? I can take that tube out and we can see how she does, but I need you to go into the hall for a moment.”

Oh hell no. She wasn’t leaving Chloe in the hands of these incompetent buffoons. They couldn’t even brush out her hair before they laid her there, dirty and covered in blood!

“Of course I cleaned her up. You left her caked in damned blood.” Beca let out a long breath through her nose, eyebrows raised as she stared down the doctor. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll like, stand in the back of the room or some shit.”

The nurse nodded, pressing a button on her hip while she set about preparing her supplies. Much to Beca’s chagrin, she pulled a curtain around the bed, effectively blocking her from seeing anything going on around the bed.

“Sorry hon, hospital policy. If you’re not sterilized you can’t be behind the curtain during any procedures.”

At least they could do something right in this godforsaken place, Beca thought.

The door swung open and the man in the lab coat breezed past her and behind the curtain, leaving it open long enough for Beca to see Chloe’s head tipped back and the nurse with two fingers under her chin, tube still dangling delicately from her lips.

The sight had a shiver traveling down Beca’s spine, lips turning from a frown to a grimace. The curtain was pulled shut before she could see any more, nerves settling in the pit of her stomach.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the doctors - they were trained medical professionals, after all - she just didn’t want to be away for the moment in which Chloe hopefully came to.

Beca waited with baited breath whilst the doctors worked, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She ground down, vaguely recognizing the familiar metalling twang of blood washing over her tongue.

Fuck.

She heard quiet whispers behind the curtain, followed by a quiet cough - one that most certainly belonged to Chloe. Beca’s heart hammered in her chest, fingers twitching at her sides as she fought the urge to tear back the curtain and push the doctors aside.

There was some rustling and the doctor and nurse emerged from the curtain, gentle smiles directed at Beca. She bounced on her toes in anticipation, eyes wide and hopeful. “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“She’s stable, but not awake. Strong breaths compared to a couple of hours ago.” The doctor pulled the curtain back, barely out of the way before Beca tore across the room and took her seat beside Chloe.

“I’m here now, Chlo.” Beca nodded to herself, hand slipping into Chloe’s. She squeezed gently, frown on her face when she noticed the adhesive residue on Chloe’s cheek from the tape that was securing the tube down earlier.

With a huff, she set about gently wiping it off and pressing feather light kisses to the red spot where the glue had irritated her skin. Beca was severely unimpressed with the hospital staff - really? They can’t even clean off Chloe’s face? - but decided to push her complaints down and just be with her. A bright grin washed across her face when she noticed the way Chloe’s eyes fluttered, half open.

“I love you, Chlo…” She whispered, sitting on the edge of her seat and staring at Chloe’s half opened eyes.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she waited, breath held, for Chloe to open her eyes. They squeezed back shut with too much force to be attributed to sleep, Beca’s eyes lighting up as she ran her thumb across Chloe’s cheekbone. “It’s okay, love, just take your time…”

Chloe made a series of gurgling sounds, finally coughing a few times. She attempted to bring her left arm to her face and groaned in pain, head pressing back into the pillow.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. They’re going to put a cast on it and it’ll be good as new.” Beca cooed softly, fingers dancing across Chloe’s cheek.

“Mm…” Chloe murmured, squeezing Beca’s hand and licking her lips a few times. “Water.”

Beca jumped out of her seat and looked around the room frantically, eyes settling on a styrofoam cup sitting on a table. She poked the straw through the top and brought it to Chloe’s lips, watching carefully as Chloe took a few slow sips.

After a moment, she swallowed thickly and blinked a few times, eyes shining as she looked up at Beca tiredly. “Hey, you.”

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” Beca breathed out, tears filling her eyes again. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”

“I think I’m dead.” Chloe was smiling brightly, causing Beca to tilt her head and wrinkle her nose in response.

“Why’s that?”

“Well the pain meds are great...like, really great. And I really just can’t be awake...did you really just say that you loved me?” Chloe let out a breathy laugh, turning her head to better look at Beca.

Beca let out a soft sound akin to a snort, head ducking as she tried in vain to hide the blush that was coating her cheeks and chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Only in my wildest dreams would Beca freakin’ Mitchell confess to feeling something for me too.”

Too. As in, Chloe had feelings for her as well? It was simply impossible - what about that Chicago dude she had been hung up on a few years prior? Or Tom?

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head and trying to subdue the grin that was spreading across her face at a rapid rate. “Does that mean that you uh, also feel something for me?”

It was almost impossible for someone as pure and perfect as Chloe to be interested in someone like her. Plain old broody Beca. No one that perfect and full of sunshine could ever be interested in her. Not in a million years.

“I’ve only been trying to tell you for literal years.”

Chloe’s eyes were shining and her lips stretched into a megawatt grin, so wide that Beca was concerned her mouth was going to split open. There was a small chuckle from the redhead, shaking her head gently.

“You...what?”

“Oh come on, Beca...did you really think I felt you up in that hotel for no reason?”

 


End file.
